


Not so difficult

by Silential



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Belly Kink, Blow Jobs, Body Appreciation, Body Worship, Chubby Hux, Chubby Kink, Dirty Talk, Humiliation, I deleted the force feeding chapter so there's none of that, M/M, Weight Gain, Weight Issues, corset Hux, embarrassed Hux, niche kink november, self-conscious Hux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-25
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-05-16 07:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5819446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silential/pseuds/Silential
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the kink meme prompt: “Previously abducted by an enemy, Hux was subjected to various humiliations including coerced feeding. By the time he is rescued, there’s a little more to him than before, nudge-nudge. Kylo finds this pleasantly distracting when they finally have sex again, but Hux is very self-conscious.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rumors run rampant, even in the Order. Stormtroopers are loyal to a fault but even they have eyes, and the bridge crew could be as scathing as anything Kylo has encountered in the galaxy. They whisper whenever Hux turns his back, hands bowing out in front of them in mimicry of the flesh pushing against their commander’s jacket. They stop before his gaze can find them, of course. But the faint flush creeping from below his collar up his newly softened jawline, no longer so sharp as to cut glass, tells Kylo everything he needs to know. 

Kylo remembers the day they brought Hux back on board. It was all hush hush really, wouldn’t do to have a high-ranking general of the Order paraded in front of his troops in the state the smuggling crew had left him in. Though Kylo had received the same orders as everyone else to remain in quarters, he’d been unable to resist slipping from his chamber, feet tracing an oft-travelled path. He hadn’t had to wait long. Phasma, blaster at the ready, turned the corner, a red-haired young man at her side. Standing off in a side corridor, Kylo went unseen by the pair as they paused for a moment at the door of the general’s quarters. 

They’d left him in the same uniform they found him in, was the first thing Kylo had noticed. The second was that said uniform no longer possessed any hope of seeing bridge command ever again. 

The trousers had long since outlived their usefulness, flaps hanging to either side as a belly that hadn't been there before now pushed between them. His jacket was hanging on by a few top buttons, and even those couldn’t have been comfortable. After never seeing Hux in public with so much as a hair out of place, the tableau in front of him could almost have been considered obscene.

Kylo had breathed in then, and Hux had turned. He hastily punched in the code to his quarters and disappeared inside, leaving Kylo with only a second to appraise the look on the general’s face. Anger, yes, but a sweet sense of shame that Kylo had replayed a dozen times since in his bed. It was never enough. 

It had taken weeks of insinuations, and Hux had insisted on the dark, but even that had taken quite a bit of convincing. As it is, Kylo still can’t believe the man said yes. He lies on the bed and listens as Hux shucks his coat, undoes his shoes. But Kylo can’t resist stealing behind him after a few moments, hands caressing a waist so much thicker than his lover can handle. Out of a bizarre sense of pride, Hux wears trousers in his former size, now clearly a good two sizes too small if Kylo tried to judge. The waistband digs into his skin, causing a bulge of flesh to neatly pour over. It thickens as Kylo’s hands slip forwards until he can feel a roll not only over the top of the waistband but also below, stomach straining against the button holding the trousers together. He cups underneath it as much as he can, which seems to break the spell. 

Hux tries to push his hands away. “I’m perfectly capable, thank you.” 

“I never said you weren’t,” Kylo says and deftly avoids the attempts to remove his hands. “Let me help.” 

He can’t help but squeeze a bit of flesh as he unfastens the trouser button, and he hears Hux suck in a breath. Pushing the trousers down as much as they will go, which admittedly is not much, Kylo rubs the crease they left before slipping one hand lower. The other draws upwards to slowly rub, circles widening and shrinking, touch soft. Whether it’s the action of one or both sets of ministrations that has Hux relaxing a bit into his embrace, Kylo can’t tell, but he’s not about to question it. 

Still, Kylo needs to have the last word. “See? Not so difficult.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set chronologically after Chapter 1. 
> 
> Sure, he’d been intrigued by the changes at first, curiously exploring and sampling the cascade of new emotions that poured in waves from Hux like a fine vintage. Yet when had Kylo’s idle curiosity yielded to captivation, and captivation so insidiously to, what – anticipation? Greed?
> 
> As in, Kylo likes what's up, and wants more... if he can somehow convince Hux.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone that has read, kudos'ed, and commented! It seriously makes my day.

Hux grits his teeth, text describing the maneuvers from the overnight hours scrolling across the screen clutched tightly in his fist. His gaze may be glued to it, but the content barely registers. 

Kylo can’t be bothered to clean up anything, leaving the remains of his breakfast for a droid to dispose of instead of returning the plate and cutlery to the alcove like an adult. For once though, it’s not their presence, haphazardly left on the formerly pristine table, that makes him twitch.

No, it’s the rather large pastry, obscene in its decadence and wholly untouched, that sits on top. 

He doesn’t even need to look at it to envision the light snow-dust of sugar. 

His own plate sits empty before him, though even when it wasn’t, it could hardly be said to have been filled. It’s been working, at least, the heavy gut that tested his trouser button and came damn near to popping it off entirely somewhat reduced by diligence and denial. That, and the tight band that even now constricts his middle, cinching his waist under the starched lines of his uniform in an attempt to recapture the silhouette taken from him. At the thought of it, his fingers itch to rub against the stiff barrier, check that it still holds back the thick press of flesh that pushes out with every chance, but he stills the thought before it can be carried out. The curve of his belly mocks him, inches he’s afraid to measure lest they become even more _real_ stubbornly staying put despite his every action. 

With the forgiving rigidness of his jacket – and, and _girdle_ , his mind stutters to include – he can stand to look at himself in the mirror, no matter the sharp discomfort and bitter heat of shame pooling in his stomach. 

It’s when both come off that he can’t bear to look. 

He has the sneaking suspicion that that is usually when Kylo really begins to. 

His foot taps against the polished floor, gaze flicking to the treat the other man had left behind. Hunger and the impatience of frayed nerves pick at the insides of him, and he’s on his feet before conscious thought catches up. Shift will begin in the next six minutes, and Hux knows it will take exactly four to reach the bridge. 

A quick glance reveals that the lounge is empty, underlings having hastened to reach their post before their commander. He reaches for the pastry, delicately held within almost trembling fingers.

Two minutes is more than enough, and it certainly couldn’t hurt just once. 

\----------

It hadn’t been the best thought out of plans. 

In fact, to call it a plan at all would be ascribing a level of forethought that hadn’t really been present. 

Behind the privacy of his helmet, he stares transfixed, wondering if anyone else sees what he does. A cursory mental scan of the officers commencing the day’s activities reveal that the answer is no. It’s both surprising and completely obvious at the same time. Sleep-fogged brains either too short on caf or too focused on work might be to blame, as might the meticulous scrutiny Kylo usually applies to the General when he knows he isn’t watching. But either way, Kylo doesn’t miss the faint residue of powder at the corner of Hux’s lips, visible for only a moment or two before a too casual swipe of his wrist dabs it away. A slight flush creeps up from beneath the General’s tight collar. 

Kylo swallows, throat suddenly dry. 

His sleeves used to barely reach his wrists, Kylo recalls, fabric pulled upward by the extra room demanded further down. They are a little longer now, a reprieve granted by rigid self-denial and the restricting prison whose presence Kylo has grown to loathe. 

It is entirely unnecessary. Barbaric, really. Whether he means food restriction or the more physical sort of restraint, Kylo can’t decide. 

Perhaps both.

Shelving his thoughts for the time being, he heads for a holoscreen and tries to lose himself in work. Alpha shift meant reading the latest comms from his fellow Knights, received while he slept and usually nothing of great importance. Updates on training and study, mostly, though with the occasional more pressing bit of business sprinkled in. 

The distraction suffices, for a time, at least. 

But it isn’t long before his thoughts return to the sugar, so insignificant a tell to the average eye but somehow blazing like a plasma beacon to his. It isn’t so much the delectable dusting itself, despite how satisfying it might have proven to catch it with the end of his tongue, but what it _represents_ that has his breath slightly quickening. 

This isn’t like himself, Kylo thinks. Sure, he’d been intrigued by the changes at first, curiously exploring and sampling the cascade of new emotions that poured in waves from Hux like a fine vintage. He’d even admit to a small sharpening of his lust because of, rather than despite of, everything – as much an attraction to the feel of yielding hips and thighs, the way his hands could slip between his cock and belly while he sat between his legs on the bed, as the embarrassment that squeezing them caused. 

Yet when had Kylo’s idle curiosity yielded to captivation, and captivation so insidiously to, what – anticipation? 

Greed?

Hux had taken the proffered treat, and Kylo grabs the edge of the console at the thought of what might have happened. He would have warred with himself, hand unconsciously coming to rest against his buckle in a way he knows means he’s struggling. But his will broke – and here Kylo fears he might break the console with his grip – and he indulged, furtive and quiet, away from the judging stares he fears in the empty lounge. It isn’t much, obviously, one single transgression, but after weeks of appraising Hux’s iron control this crack in the bulkhead might present a flaw to pry ever more open. 

Finally, maybe with some effort and enough time, the whole structure might give way. 

How far could this go, he wonders – if he sent a second dinner to the General’s quarters, late on the heels of gamma shift, would the plates be sent back empty? Or if not dinner, then a helping or two of whatever sweet treat came part and parcel of the welcoming bounty from the most recently occupied planet? 

Something simple, yet decadent, clean and smooth like Hux himself. 

This, yes, he likes better, and lets himself hone in on the thought, skin hot under the layers of his robes. Officers mill around him, voices blending into a nondescript drone, as his eyes sightlessly stare at the holoscreen before him.

He would only try it the once at first, then again a few days later if it were successful, and maybe the third not much longer after that. He’d try as often as he dared, increasing in frequency. Each time, he would be unable to help himself from listening, sending his awareness night after night to linger in the rush of the General’s thoughts. There he’d grow heady and drunk on the sweet shame and pleasure melding together inside Hux’s mind, control slipping from his grasp with each bite, each slice that passed his lips. 

And when Kylo would join him after some time, overriding the door control before Hux can shut him out, he would find the General at his table, struggling to secure trouser flaps that have no hope of meeting over the soft belly rolling out between them. The girdle would lay cast aside on the floor, one of the panels frayed and ripped from the added strain. His only regret would be having missed the moment it failed. 

Kylo would kiss him, drawing his hands upward and mouth breaking away after a moment to suck the honeyed sweetness from long fingers – 

A shaky breath rattled all the more by his voice distorter, he forces himself to unclench his hands. The heavy robes hide the way his cock strains at the lacings of his trousers, his mask hiding pupils blown wide. He is thankful he is the only Force sensitive on the ship; his thoughts have been broadcasting at high volume. At least there is no one around to hear them. 

Ardent greed, indeed. 

Pushing away from the console, he walks as confidently as can be managed, stride still stiff if anyone cared to study, however. Fortunately, Hux is preoccupied, leaning over a lieutenant’s shoulder in a way that in profile highlights the downward weight of his middle. If he realized, he would snap upwards in an instant; the thought tingles. 

He tears his gaze away, and heads into the maze of corridors leading to his quarters. 

Kylo knows he should proceed carefully, lest his eagerness tip his hand prematurely. It wouldn’t do to frighten Hux off, as their trysts were still nonetheless delicate – and, rather infrequent, for that matter – for all that Kylo thought he was being quite obvious in his appreciation. 

Still, it does beg the question. 

Where to start?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I wanted to finish this and post in time for niche kink november! 
> 
> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!

It's easier to do than he thought.

In all his calculations, which admittedly hadn’t been so much _calculations_ as much as elaborate musings with a hand pumping at his cock, he'd thought for sure it would have to be in private. Hux’s pride is too great, his sense of rank too strong, for his fantasies to occur anywhere else.

To Kylo’s great surprise, however, privacy is apparently not as critical an ingredient to the whole endeavor. Not if he times it right.

It doesn’t matter if it’s in the middle of the officer’s lounge, dinner shift on its last legs with a smattering of lower ranking personnel absorbed in their own conversations. All it takes is for Hux to be distracted, even better if he’s stressed. Kylo learns that if he slips a plate on the table with one hand and clears the empty dish away while Hux’s attention is fixed squarely on his datapad, the other man will keep eating.

And eating.

This is especially true if it's been a busy day and Hux has a thousand issues to contend with. Flustered and burdened with the cumulative weight of eons of human evolution that promise sugar and grease to be the best salve.

As a result, Kylo has become a connoisseur of identifying the busiest days. When everything has gone wrong, every order apparently mistranslated and mishandled down the chain of command, and Hux has put out more fires than Mustafar has volcanoes. When the General falls into his chair at the end of that kind of day, glass of something decidedly very alcoholic on the table in front of him, he wants to sit and scroll – a note made here, a comm message sent there – and pay as little attention to the world around him as is humanly possible.

And eat, of course. The more starch and fat and oil involved, the more soothing it seems to be. Not that Kylo thinks Hux has consciously realized this to be at work – but he won’t argue with it.

It’s worked very conveniently in Kylo’s favor in the past. He might have even contributed, albeit slightly, to the sheer derailment of those days and the… aftermath, as he ruefully acknowledges in the privacy of own his head, that follows. He's done it a few times before now, though only a second plate of whatever the Finalizer’s kitchens can scrounge up and not daring to push it further. These times are the only times Kylo has ever returned dishes, and they're not even _his_. Like they have every time before this, his continue to sit on the table, contents half untouched in his eager anticipation.

It had been an extraordinarily awful day. Not just for Hux, but for him as well, which was saying something – and if the white-hot press of stress between his shoulder blades has him more rash than normal, well then.

This night, he wonders if Hux can get to three.

Once the thought is in his head, any half-hearted considerations of stopping at two dissipate rapidly, and he is filling up a third plate with whatever he thinks Hux will like best. And, of course, whatever he knows will have the rolls pressing at Hux’s waistband swelling further if he eats enough of it.  

As Hux had slowly and methodically polished off the second plate, hand mechanically lifting a savory bun that had reeked of rosemary to his lips, a couple of the other officers began to notice. Certainly it doesn’t make Kylo look any less odd, casually refilling Hux’s plates, but the crew have long since stopped trying to understand his behavior, as mercurial and impenetrable as his temperament was known to be.

Hux, on the other hand, _Hux_ they know, and they know this isn’t on the usual docket. By the third plate, they are staring, conversation stilted in the way of those mentally diverted but trying valiantly to stay on topic. Cognizant of their attention, Kylo tells himself he's not doing it in public because he likes the others to watch. It’s only that this is convenient, the food is right there, and getting it into Hux’ quarters would carry a whole other host of problems.

But he doesn't do anything to negate the stares either, offers no explanation or excuse, and he can’t deny the little thrill that flickers low in his stomach.

A cursory skimming of their thoughts has his cock aching against his trousers. Whispers buzz in the back of his head, fragments that ricochet and scatter.   _Is this some sort of power play?_ The lieutenant, Kylo thinks, isn’t wrong, even if she’s not totally right either. _Thought he was trying to lose_. Flitting from mind to mind like sparks, they caught flame. _He’ll be even bigger than he was._

Under the mask, Kylo grins.

He can’t believe his luck.

Conversation having finally given up the ghost and lost its way, silence rushes in.

\-----

While he hadn’t been paying very much attention to the ambiance of the lounge, the way it goes deathly quiet has his head snapping up from his screen.

That, and the way his girdle digs into the taut flesh of his stomach.

A mental calculation puts into reference the past hour, time barely registered rewinding snap-quick in his mind. He registers the dull ache of fullness, wonderful and horrible simultaneously, and keeps his gaze studiously away from the one place it itches to slide. Instead he takes in the room, the levelled measure of his gaze enough to have sniper-sight stares ripped hastily from their target and applied elsewhere.

The empty plate only glares back, silent and reproachful, and Hux can feel his belly straining against his trousers, trying to escape the girdle. At least he still has that, the reinforced panels enough to smooth out and restrain the arc curving smoothly out into his lap.

This isn’t respectable. This isn’t _General-material_. He hears it in a voice not his own, deeper and cut-quick with the snap of a Core accent, less affected and overwrought than his own. Even with the man in the ground, that voice has dogged his steps for years, and he can only imagine what its owner would have to say if he could see Hux now, crumbs at his mouth, the buttons straining over the widest part of his stomach in danger of popping clean off. 

It didn’t matter if his father had been a man of many appetites himself, and certainly no thin sapling.

Hux was supposed to be _better_ than this.

And his cock was _not_ supposed to be stiffening, hidden by the cut of his trousers but not for long. His mind runs with the thought he’d just had, of the buttons securing his trousers and jacket giving way to litter the floor. His girdle would be on full display, taxed to the limit and telling everyone what General Hux was forced to do to eke out a semblance of a figure. And Maker above, if _that_ were to go –

Hux closes his eyes. Breathes deep.

The start of a flush burns on his neck, his cheeks. It’s always been something he’d hated, how readily his body betrays his weakness – betrayed _him_. A fleeting second sees his hand passing over his stomach, before he can snatch it away.

Seems it had never stopped.

Summoning every ounce of solemnity he can muster, Hux pushes back from the table and stands, trying to ignore the uncomfortable way his jacket pulls across the very place he’d like to draw attention away from. He rights it as much as he can, in the disaffected way he might pick lint from his sleeve, and walks stiffly to the door.

He doesn’t need to look at the man to feel Ren’s eyes.

\----

Hux stops frequenting the officers’ lounge. As far as Kylo can tell, he takes his meals privately.

For someone to whom the future comes naturally, nerves firing, muscles reacting before the stimulus has even occurred – he really should have seen this coming. Kylo can only kick himself, chalking up another failure to his rash desires. It was the height of stupidity, giving into temptation and seeing just how far he could push it, dizzily clawing for every last inch of opportunity. He snorts behind his mask at the thought, the vocoder distorting it into something inhuman.

Every inch indeed.

Days have passed, lengthening into weeks that wave mockingly as they skate by. Kylo sees him only on the bridge, cold air of business enshrouding narrow shoulders like a cloak, with eyes too hard and preoccupied to grant him any notice. It stings some, of course it does, the rote dismissal and denial of all that had passed between them lately.

More than that though, the invitations to Hux’s quarters afterhours, as sparse as they were, also dry up.

Kylo sends one of his own. Discrete and reserved, in a way he knows Hux likes, far from the broad and clumsy entreaties that come most naturally. Hux had had sex with him after he was brought back on board - why would he stop now of all times? It had to be painfully obvious by now, his appreciation, his silent encouragement. His ardent greed.

It goes unanswered. He sends another. It too is greeted with silence.

He tries to get the General alone, but it’s easier to corner a single drop of water as it pours through one’s fingertips than find a second where he isn’t flanked by officers. Underlings cling to Hux’s coat tails and ‘troopers seem to have personally decided overnight the need for an honor guard, and even when he spots a lone figure in a corridor junction and Kylo gets his hopes up, a minute later sees a chrome breastplate sliding to rest at his elbow, Phasma’s impenetrably dark visor glaring back.

It isn’t long at all before he's sent out on a personal mission, the sole member of a vanguard of peace-keeping forces that proved no need for reinforcements. Success is all but ensured from the start, and he methodically works his way through the sparse resistance attempting to mount a coup in the region. He's gone for three weeks, from his step off the landing shuttle to the moment his foot meets glossy black floors again. Nothing has changed on the Finalizer for all the bodies he'd left behind, the grime of it all still caked into the creases of his gloves.

In the two days he’d been back on board, Kylo hears nothing from Hux. No greeting, no acknowledgement – not even the typical exasperated request for a mission debriefing. It shouldn’t surprise Kylo, but it almost does and it certainly bothers. A tumbler of something warm and amber, smoke curling behind his teeth and down his throat, is enough to redirect his pacing one night, confined to the trek between his bed and the door, out into the hallway. Out into the hallway, down the familiar corridors he’s walked a thousand times before, to a door which looked the same as all the others but couldn’t be farther from it.

Kylo pressed the comm.

As he might have predicted, no answer.

A quick glance at the panel reveals that Hux should be off duty at this time of night, and Maker knew whenever he was he could be found working in his private office. He had to be inside, and on the small chance he wasn’t, Kylo could always return to pacing.

Five swift keystrokes are all it takes to override the door. The panel hisses as it retracts neatly into the wall, and Kylo steps inside.

Kylo’s boots thud on the bare floor of the small foyer, the echo pattern changing as he heads for the main room that serves as office and bedroom both. The door is open and Hux is, exactly as he’d predicted, at his desk working, hunched and half hidden behind the chrome and blackwood contraption. He glances up briefly when Kylo enters, gaze flicking to rake over the sharp planes of Kylo’s mask, before it falls back to the report open on the holopad before him.

Kylo scans the remainder of the room and notes the several pairs of trousers strewn over the bed, not neatly folded over hangers and tucked in the closet as they should be. That wasn’t like Hux, who even before they fucked would always obey the almost pathological need to keep his uniform from wrinkling. The girdle too is on the floor in a corner. A crumpled mess, tumbled over itself as if it had been thrown there. It probably had.

The sharp crackle of his distorted voice pierces the silence. “Does that _thing_ still fit?” He doesn’t need to clarify, he’d made his disdain for the garment quite clear before.

Hux doesn't look up at the question, but the way his eyes cease to move across the report belies his attempt at seeming distracted. His face is fuller than the previous month, Kylo notes with a jolt, jawline soft and slipping easily into what might have been a double chin.

His reply is tight. "No."

Kylo extends a tendril of thought, gently questioning, dancing over the shifting mass of thought and emotion that hovers under his mental hand. After a second he plucks a thought from the surface of Hux's mind; it isn’t buried, nor protected, it floats with the buoyancy of a memory often summoned and repeated. He feels _hands, his but not his, yanking desperately on the two ends of the girdle, pain in his lungs as he struggles to suck in his gut enough to get the hooks to lock_. Another thought follows, _orders put in for a new uniform. He holds his breath and guesses a number, thoughts suspended halfway between surely it couldn’t be any more than that and kriff, that’s probably too_ small _–_

Hux pushes him out. His chest rises and falls faster, his breathing a little harder. From the mental exertion or the pink stain already dusting his cheeks, it’s difficult to tell.  

Entranced by the sight, Kylo can't help but ask. "Do you even know if those measurements are right?"

"No."

A thought springs to mind, _tape wrapped around his thick waist, the ends secured in Kylo's hands. Pulling it slightly too tightly, watching as the soft flesh spills over and below it, Kylo purring the number into his ear. He should feel ashamed, he should feel angry, but instead he can’t breathe and all he wants is for Kylo to touch –_

For the second time in as many minutes Kylo feels the rough snap of a mind closing, only this time he hadn’t had to go looking. Behind the mask, he can feel his mouth drop open, his cock stirring at what could only have been a fantasy – a fantasy that mirrored so many of the ones he’d had himself in the still quiet of the night. The idea that Hux could share this, _want_ this – it’s almost too much. Pleasant surprise courses with the hot flush of arousal radiating from his stomach, and it shows in his voice.

"Do you want me to?"

"No."

"Is that all you can say?"

“ _No.”_

Kylo bites back a laugh, not wanting to put Hux even more on the defensive and ruin whatever this was, this slow, staccato admission of shared wants, of shared goals. He can see a reply wither and die on the other man's lips, pursed together as if to deny the deepening flush creeping up his collar. Kylo dares for a second to hope it’s for the same reason that has his own trousers suddenly too confining.

"If you have no business to report, Ren, I suggest you leave." Hux tries for imperiousness, but it comes out too halting, too jerky to be anything but a cover.

"You are angry."

"Amazed you even noticed, really."

“And yet, not angry with me, though it’s clear you’d like to be. Angry at yourself.” Kylo snorts, the sound almost static by the time it leaves the vocoder. He may be a mind-reader, but the tone in Hux’s thoughts would be obvious to anyone. "Why have you been avoiding me?"

Hux sneers, lip pulling tight over his teeth. It’s a front if Kylo has ever seen one. "If you have to ask after seeing all of that, I have no need to explain."  

Kylo remains silent for a moment, gaze slowly shifting between Hux and the pairs of trousers ignominiously scattered over the bed and back. He stares and Hux squirms in his seat, pinned by the weight of words unsaid. Finally Kylo takes pity and gives them wings, his voice calm.

"You can't blame me for all this, you know." They both know what he's referring to – not just the trousers which won’t meet around Hux’s middle, but the thoughts, the fantasies, the thrill that shame seems to set in his cock. "Even if you want to."

They lock gazes.

Hux looks away, muttering, "You did start it."

"I'll admit I took some... liberties." He offered blandly, the statement quite clear in its refusal to be an apology and the closest he would give to providing one. It simply was that he frankly wasn't sorry. Hux regarded him with guarded skepticism, his mouth parting slightly as Kylo added, "I would have liked to take more. Though, thankfully it seems you took them for me, General."

The use of his title makes Hux cringe. It’s the opposite of what Kylo wants to happen.

Kylo isn’t one to beg, and he never says _please_ , but he can’t quite keep the entreaty out of his words. "Let me see."

Hux doesn't move for a few moments, before he rises slowly from the chair on legs that Kylo might have called quaking had they belonged to anyone else. His fingers latch onto his belt as he swings around the desk, the telltale rise of his chest that means he’s sucking in to try to tease a bit of slack. As it is the belt comes away with barely a touch, tossed onto the floor as Hux takes a few more halting steps towards Kylo. He won’t quite meet Kylo’s eyes, gaze pinned to the floor as he nimbly unbuttons and shrugs out of his coat. He swallows thickly, his throat bobs.

At first it’s almost too much, every inch of skin clamoring to be the first thing Kylo sees. Hux had never been muscular, but the plump softness of his arms is such a counterpoint to Kylo’s own, the rise of his chest where he’d always been _flat flat flat_ before. It’s charming and it’s perfect, and for a second Kylo can’t help but imagine taking one nipple between his lips, mouthing at the sensitive pink bud as he cups the weight of the other in his hand. Hux’s hands twitch where he keeps them rigidly at his sides, fighting the urge to hide exactly what a month had done. A month and he’s heavier than Kylo could have imagined, _has_ imagined. The lovehandles at his sides crest over his waistband in a generous roll begging to be squeezed and pinched between eager fingers. He has the top two buttons undone of his trousers, pushed underneath as his belly hangs over. Stretchmarks tongue their way over his gut, bright red and recent as they fork over the pale expanse, speaking to _how fast_ he’d asked the skin to balloon. Even still the tight waistband cuts into his soft underbelly, pushing flesh up and out in a way that the flare of his jacket must fail at hiding.

Kylo wonders how long it had been that way - Hux on the bridge, giving commands and commanding respect while all the while his belly continued to swell with each day, too big to be confined. The thought has Kylo hardening, wishing only that he’d been there to see it these past few weeks, wondering if he’d have been able to keep his hands to himself. Hux had been so slender before, and the weight doesn’t seem to know where to go, it just keeps rounding out his belly, thickening his sides. Whatever he’d managed to lose, it had returned and then some.

When he speaks, Kylo has to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth. The words feel clunky, but he can’t think of anything to say except _please please please_. “The diet ended, I take it.”

“What do you think.”

“Good. It wasn’t necessary.”

Barely shaking hands rise to release the catches of his mask, the resultant hiss loud in the quiet room. Depositing it carelessly on a nearby dresser, Kylo peels off his gloves, the thought of feeling Hux with his bare hands already causing his breath to speed up. They fall to the floor as he pads closer, stare fixed singularly on Hux. The other man stands his ground, even if Kylo can see the instinctive urge to hide, to flee flit briefly over his face.

Kylo can’t keep the wonder from his voice, it suffuses warm and rich. “You look incredible.”

Hux scoffs, but his heart isn’t in it. His mouth tightens with apprehension, and his gaze flicks finally to Kylo’s, struggling to find the lie. “Now really –“

Kylo presses a finger to the taut line of Hux’s mouth, the bow of it full and pink beneath his pale skin. “You do.”

He leans in, calloused fingertip replaced by soft lips. A hand comes up to gently cup Hux’s cheek, marveling at the subtle way its curve has changed, the new way he fits against Kylo’s palm. Parting his lips, Kylo deepens the kiss, hand trailing to bury itself in Hux’s gelled hair, knocking the strands loose and pulling him in.

He breaks it off after a few moments, welcoming the rush of breath into his lungs. He hasn’t let go of Hux’s hair, merely slides his thumb soothingly against his scalp. “Can I touch you?”

Hux nods, his reply a puff of air against Kylo’s lips. “ _Please.”_

It’s the way he says it, the pleading he can’t keep from the word that echoes the one ricocheting around Kylo’s own head, that has his lips crashing back against Hux’s. One hand in his hair, the other comes up to his hip, squeezing the roll that fits perfect into his palm as he pushes Hux back until his ass hits the wall. He leaves Hux’s hair and his touch gentles, at least somewhat, slipping down to tease around a nipple, pinching in a way that coaxes a moan from Hux. A little further and Kylo is cradling his bloated waist with both hands, brain stuttering to catch up that this was _real_ and _happening_. The give of the fat collected on his sides is intoxicating, a warm handful that begs to be gripped as Hux rides his cock, guiding hips exactly where Kylo wants them. Cupping the curve of belly hanging over the too tight waistband, it wobbles and trembles with the tender touch of a fingertip, not the hard paunch of a drinker but something soft and malleable, effortlessly squeezable. He’s not the best at estimating, but if he had to guess he’d say Hux had put on at least three inches, maybe more. Kylo tries to fit a finger or two between the straining flesh and the waistband but he can’t, and the realization has a moan seeping into their kiss.

Kylo imagines Hux tearing through his closet, systematically trying on his clothes. The harder his cock becomes as he fails to button his trousers, feels the way his thighs fill out the roomy cut and his ass stresses the seams in back. He pulls back again, jerking his head to the bed as his head almost swims. “Did trying them on get you hard?”

Kissed red and spit wet, Hux’s lips part. He nods, unable to mask the wide-blown pupils, the way his heart pounds in his chest. “Yes.”

The admission has Kylo tightening his hold, voice dropping into a low growl. “Did you touch yourself? Work your way under this,” he holds the overhang of Hux’s stomach with a teasing hand, lifting it slightly, “and come all over your belly?”

Hux’s breath hisses through his teeth, his eyes slipping closed with a brief kiss of translucent lashes to pale cheeks. “I wanted to but,” he cuts off, summoning strength, before the answer whooshes out, “I thought that if I did I wouldn’t be able to deny this any more.”

Hux _sitting naked on his bed, willing his hands to remain on the covers as his belly rubs against his cock, wanting so desperately to stroke, to touch. He shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t want this. The warm weight of his gut providing pressure and a little friction, but not enough, not enough_ –  

“And what’s the problem with any of this, Hux? Why not give in?” Kylo grins, reaching around to palm the meaty weight of Hux’s ass. The rough squeeze has Hux choking back a groan, the way Kylo pushes his hips as much as he can against him leaving no doubt how much either of them want this. He can feel Hux, swollen and aching, and the layers of clothing between them make the sensation a paltry, insufficient thing.   

Kylo can see Hux wavering, see the desire fighting with denial in the furrow of his brow. He leans in closer until Hux can almost taste his words. The grin has dissolved into something more serious, more honest. “Let me help you. _Please_.”

A nod and they are both pushing at Hux’s trousers, wedged as they are around his hips and hugging tightly to his ass. If Kylo hadn’t been able to fully appreciate the soft curve of it before, he certainly can now, sinking to his knees to better tug on the stiff fabric. The cut of the jodhpurs had disguised the dimpled flesh underneath, thighs touching a little more than they had before as each inch was peeled away. Gray regulation underwear follows suit, the thick line of Hux’s cock springing free, the head flushed and just beginning to bead.

As tempting as it is to guide Hux into his mouth from this position, a better idea steals into his head. The chance to rectify Hux’s earlier self-deprivation can’t be easily ignored.

Kylo peers up at Hux, admiring the view from below, the thighs so near to his mouth. “Sit on the edge of the bed. And don’t lift your hands from it.”

It’s almost comical the way Hux’s cock twitches at the suggestion, bobbing ungainly between his legs as he struggles to kick off the trousers and follow the order. He doesn’t waddle, not yet, but his steps to the bed have a certain rolling gait they didn’t before, a swing of thicker hips that has Kylo leaking at the sight. He pushes a hand down on his still covered cock, desperate for the pressure, and can’t help but palm himself as he watches Hux sit, thighs spread to make more room for his belly, hands obediently placed on either side.

It’s a beautiful sight, made only the more so by the way Kylo’s hand had knocked a few stiff strands of hair over his forehead, red calling to the flush still high in his cheeks. Hux’s lips are reddened from their kiss, and his cock is wet with the fluid dribbling from the tip, and he’s practically vibrating but trying to stay oh so still.

“Incredible,” Kylo echoes. “Beautiful.”

“Hardly, I’m sure,” Hux still ventures, and it comes out raw, leagues away from the sarcasm he might have been going for. Still, his gaze is locked on Kylo’s hand, rubbing slowly over the front of his pants, like nothing else exists in the world.

Kylo doesn’t take the bait, merely offers, “I could come just from looking at you like this. Don’t make me do it to prove it to you.”

To prove his point, he has to force his hand into a fist to keep from continuing, and the effort it takes to do so is astounding. He rises to his feet and saunters to the bed, holding Hux’s gaze as he pointedly sinks to the floor once more. The position puts him directly between Hux’s feet, thighs and belly and cock open to his gaze, his touch. Hands kept to the bed, Hux can’t hide a single inch, and the fact that he’s obeying, relegating himself to Kylo’s scrutiny is both admirable and arousing by turns.

If before Hux’s stomach had bowed forward in more or less a smooth arc, it sits in rolls now as he perches at the edge of the bed, smaller one perched delicately atop the main bulge. Not being pushed up or partially hidden by his trousers, it looks even bigger, sagging to rest on his thighs. Kylo’s knuckles brush against it as he wraps a hand around the shaft, Hux’s eyes fluttering closed as he begins to slowly pump.

When his mouth hovers over the tip, breath ghosting over the sensitive head, he spares a glance to Hux’s right hand, sees the twitch that meant he would like nothing more than to sink it into Kylo’s hair. Forcing back a grin, he wets his lips and sinks onto Hux’s cock, the guttural moan he receives in answer curling around the base of his own dick and tugging. Mouth stretching with the familiar girth of him, Kylo works him slowly, hand and mouth moving carefully together to capture every inch. Every few moments he pulls away to brush just below the head, teasing the spot where flared curve met straight shaft. It never fails to have Hux’s cock twitching in his grip, hands scrabbling at the sheets.

Kylo tightens his grip, dips his chin lower and lower with each attempt. More or less occupied, he sends a thought shooting into the air between them. _See what comes of not denying yourself?_

Hux almost laughs, the sound cut off as it drags into a high, excited sound. “I was afraid to go down that path,” he answers haltingly, in time with Kylo’s ministrations.

And then, quieter, “Too afraid I’d turn around and find myself alone.” 

The admission lands in Kylo’s stomach, and he can barely think to shoot back a reply. Instead he pulls off with a wet pop, hand still working Hux in slightly faster time.

“Never.”

He doesn’t wait for Hux’s reply, pushing his nose against the creased skin of Hux’s balls, breathing deep for a moment before his tongue slides languorously slow over the heated skin. Hux breathes in sharply, and it comes out as a keen as Kylo finds the slight indent between them, using the tip of his tongue to flick and cradle each of them until Hux is shaking. Kylo’s hand speeds up, slicking obscenely through the fluid steadily dripping over his knuckles.

A litany of “Please, Kylo, please,” fills his ears, and Kylo can barely keep his eyes from the way Hux has his screwed tightly shut, lip pinned between teeth in a way Kylo wants to find his body pinning Hux’s to the bed.

When he uncurls his fingers enough to mouth his way upward and take Hux back into his mouth, Kylo can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have Hux beneath him now, soft cushion of his gut pushing into the hard plane of his own as he takes him, trembling with the effort. He offers the image to Hux, mouth bobbing swiftly over him as spit and precome drip down his shaft.

Hands thread sharply into Kylo’s hair as Hux defies his order, hips lifting from the bed as much as he can to meet Kylo’s willing mouth. He’s cursing, his grip just shy of painful, and Kylo can’t resist sending another fantasy, this time one of his favorites. Hux on his hands and knees, ass jiggling with every thrust. Kylo could lean over his back, admire the way his hands indent the flesh of his hips. Reach underneath to feel his belly swaying, hanging heavy not far from the mattress - 

With a startled moan, Hux spills in his mouth, salt blooming on his tongue. He coaxes Hux through it, lets him ride out the wave, before he finishes with one last weak spurt. As Hux disentangles his fingers from Kylo’s hair, Kylo thinks about maybe reaching up, drawing Hux down and pushing his come between his lips.

The thought is a pleasant one, but Kylo decides against it and swallows instead. Maybe next time.

Oblivious to Kylo’s dilemma, Hux falls back on his elbows, no longer seeming to mind the way the position pushes his belly forward. Flush still dapples his chest and neck, lattice-work splotches stretching from chin to the rise of his stomach. Shocked and fucked out, satiety wins out over surprise, and all Hux can manage is a semi-breathless, “That second idea… I’d like that.”

Kylo makes a show of licking a few flecks of come from his lips. He grins, one hand squeezing the thickest part of Hux’s thigh. “Couldn’t have guessed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come talk to me at [somethingstately](http://somethingstately.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr!


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